Two Truths and a Lie
by bloodwrites
Summary: Second installment in my Summer of Us series. Booth teaches Brennan the art of deception - with surprising results.
1. Chapter 1

_This is another one that was posted over at LiveJournal for a while, and I've been meaning to get it over here and just somehow never got to it - so, my apologies if you've already read it. For those looking for an Apprentice on the Island update... I pinkie swear that you will have three new chaps tomorrow. Pinkie swear, people. That's serious. Also: If you haven't subscribed to my new, free multi-fandom fanfic e-zine spectacular, you should absolutely do it. Awesome writers, new stories, contests, games, fan art, videos... It's awesome. You can find it all over at www dot bwfanficezine dot com. _

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><p>"Bones, would you just give it up already?"<p>

"You know I won't – I'm accustomed to attaining a certain level of excellence with everything I do."

"Even lying?" Booth countered.

It was four o'clock on a Friday afternoon – just three days after Vincent Nigel Murray had been shot, and an undeniable pall still hung over the lab. Nevertheless, everyone was back to work, trying to catch up on everything that had been missed while they were mourning Vincent and, then, working to help Booth bring Broadsky in. Now, however, no one was working – instead, she and Booth and Angela were gathered at one corner of the platform, taking what Booth called a "doughnut and coffee break," though she hadn't particularly felt like having either of them.

"Seriously, Booth, if you don't shut her off soon, I won't be held responsible for my actions," Angela warned. She looked at Brennan seriously. "You're a brilliant scientist and a great writer, and you know I love you, but you suck at lying, sweetie. That's not actually such a terrible thing."

Brennan shook her head stubbornly. "There are just some intonations that I need to master."

"It's not _how _you're saying it, Bones," Booth corrected her. "Or – well, yeah, okay – it's the way you say it, too. But it's also what you're saying. No offense, but it's pretty much everything you're doing here."

Based on the grin on his face, he was enjoying her inadequacy far more than seemed appropriate considering the recent evolution of their relationship. Shouldn't he be more supportive now?

"What I'm saying is no different than what you're saying when you do it. Here – I'll show you."

She focused on looking at neither of them, took a deep breath, and said evenly,

"I attended a high school on the south side of Chicago for a brief time, where everyone was forced to succumb to locker searches and I was subsequently expelled when they found a marijuana pipe placed there by my foster brother at the time; I created an anti-venom in graduate school designed to counteract the effects of a rattlesnake bite, and I enjoy watching speed skating competitions occasionally on my off hours."

"Second one," Hodgins said, as he skipped up the top step to the platform.

Booth and Angela looked at one another and nodded. "Second one," they agreed, in unison.

Brennan was tempted to hurt someone. "How do you know?" She looked accusingly at Hodgins. "And how do _you _know? You weren't even part of the conversation."

"Because we've been doing this pretty much nonstop for the past two days, and it's always the second one," he said.

She furrowed her brow, looking at Booth in question. He nodded. "Yeah. Sorry, Bones. That's the other way we can always tell. The middle one is always the lie with you."

"Well, I won't do it that way anymore," she said.

Booth shrugged. "Fine. But trust me, it's not gonna matter. Besides, if you're not doing the second one, it'll be the last one."

Her eyes widened. "You don't know that."

"Sure I do. Same way I knew all your passwords that time, and I know the next time you sit down at your desk, you're gonna pick up the file furthest to your right, take a sip of coffee without looking at it, sink back in your chair, and start reading. Then, you're gonna finish your coffee without looking up from the file, and you're only gonna stop working when you realize the cup is empty and you need a refill."

Hodgins nodded, clearly impressed. "Nice. He's got you figured out, Dr. B."

For some reason, it bothered her that he found her so predictable. Before she could argue the point, however, he stood abruptly.

"So, quarter past four," he said, nodding toward the clock on the wall. "Know what that means?"

He looked at her with clear significance in his eyes. Since they had already been over this particular plan several times, she nodded with a clear lack of enthusiasm.

"I know what it means."

"Ten o'clock, Bones. I mean it." He looked at Angela. "And if I hear you stayed later than six, I'm sending somebody from the local PD to escort you home. You guys all look like the walking dead."

An uncomfortable silence fell at his words. A crew was scheduled to come and replace the glass that had shattered when Broadsky fired his fatal bullet through the skylight and into Vincent's heart, but for now it was taped off with plastic. The janitorial staff had successfully cleaned the intern's blood from the floor, but Brennan still found it difficult to walk past that spot.

Hodgins went over and put his arm around Angela, nodding solemnly. "Don't worry, man – I'll get her home. No OT this weekend."

Cam emerged from her office then with a stack of case files, and Booth sighed. "Looks like that's my cue. Don't work too hard, all right?" He hesitated for so long that Brennan finally looked at him uncertainly.

"Was there something else?"

"Uh – no, not really. I just…" He lowered his voice. "Could I see you for a second, in your office?"

She felt Angela's eyes on them, the artist's grin widening at the blush on Brennan's cheeks. Booth scratched his neck, standing awkwardly until Brennan finally nodded, leading the way back to her office.

Once they were inside, she was painfully aware of the glass walls and the presence of so many others in the lab. Booth put his hands in his pockets, appearing suddenly bashful. It was silly, really – they'd spent two nights wrapped in one another's arms, doing some of the most deliciously pleasurable things Brennan had done in years. Perhaps ever. But there was still a degree of uncertainty that they hadn't gotten past, since the sudden shift in their relationship. As though all the rules between them had suddenly changed, and neither of them was entirely sure what the new rules were.

That uncertainty seemed to be exacerbated now, since she had spent last night alone. It had been a mutual decision – they were both exhausted, and she was longing for some space to process some of the momentous changes that had taken place over the past week. The fact that she had gotten less sleep, tormented by insomnia for the first half of the night and nightmares for the second, unnerved her. Forty-eight hours into a relationship with Booth, and she was already looking to him to ease her mind in ways she had never needed him to before.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay – that was the real reason I came by. You sounded kind of weird on the phone earlier."

"Cam was in my office," she reminded him.

He smiled at her, taking a step forward with his soulful brown eyes locked on hers. "Yeah, I know – but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the only problem."

"No… It was," she said, though she couldn't keep the uncertainty from her voice. "You know how much I value professionalism."

"I do," he agreed. He turned abruptly and closed the blinds, effectively shutting them in a shadowed cocoon before he returned to her. This time, he stood much closer than he had before.

"Angela already told them what's going on – you know that, right?" he said. "Cam, Hodgins, the squints… hell, I think _security _got the memo."

"That doesn't change the fact that I believe we need to maintain a certain level of professional decorum when we interact in the office," she argued.

She crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously closing herself off as he breached the last few inches between them – though she noted that he still did not touch her.

He nodded, more gently than he had before. "I know that. And I'm totally with you on it – I think that's the way to go with this. But I just…" A shadow of doubt clouded his eyes. He worried his lip for a moment, his forehead furrowed. "I know you, Temperance. And right about now, the way I figure it, you've got about sixteen different thoughts you don't even know you're thinking, and they all revolve around how you've gotta build back up all the walls we've been working to tear down for the past eight years."

She frowned. "No I don't. You don't know me as well as you think you do. I've had no such thoughts."

"So you didn't have trouble sleeping last night," he said. His head was tilted slightly to the side, a faint smirk on his face. God, sometimes he really was infuriating.

"I did have some trouble sleeping last night, as a matter of fact, but it had nothing to do with you," she said defiantly. "Or us."

"Uh huh," he said, clearly not believing her. "And you didn't think to yourself, 'Jeez, I slept like a baby those two nights I was wrapped up like a kitten in Booth's arms._That _can't be good.' "

She felt the doubt touch her eyes, her own brow furrowing more now. "I didn't think that," she said softly.

He nodded. The smirk was gone now, in its place a gentle sympathy. "Okay. That's good, Bones."

He put his arms around her for the first time since he'd left her apartment the morning before last. She remained stiff for a moment, unwilling to accept just how deeply comforting she found his presence. That stiffness lasted only a moment, however, before she put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"If you _had _thought it, though, you know what I'd say?"

For a moment she just stood there with her head on his chest, trying to fight her curiosity. Finally, she gave in. "What would you say?"

His arms tightened around her for a moment, but then he moved back and looked her in the eye, framing her face with his strong, lean hands. "I'd say, 'Anytime you ever have trouble sleeping again, all it takes is a phone call and I'm there.' " He kissed her lightly on the mouth, then pulled her back into an embrace. "I'm not going anywhere, baby," he said, his breath warm in her hair. "You might as well get used to it."

It amazed her sometimes - and frightened her, she had to admit - just how well he could read her. She closed her eyes, reveling in his strength, but a moment later the murmur of conversation outside her office reminded her where they were. She kissed his neck quickly, trying to convey the fact that he had successfully eased her concerns, and then stepped back.

"Thank you, Booth" she said. Her eyes drifted to the door of their own volition. Booth grinned, seeming to take no offense.

"And that's my cue to get the hell out," he said lightly. "But I'm serious about what I said earlier, Bones – I'm gonna be here at five 'til ten tonight, and if you're not ready to go at ten on the dot, I'm packing up all your stuff and carrying you out."

"That won't be necessary." She licked her lips, voice lowering seductively. "I find I'm suddenly looking forward to a Friday night at home, just the two of us."

His smile widened to a sexy grin and his eyes darkened at least two shades. "Oh yeah? What'd you have in mind?"

She shrugged, pushing him toward the door. "I think it's time I rid you of this notion that you can predict everything I'm going to do before I do it," she said. She leaned up and whispered, "I can be very creative when I want to be," purposely breathing hot air in his ear before she nipped his earlobe lightly. Before he could respond, she opened her office door and pushed him outside. The combination of lust and surprise on his face was, without question, the best thing she had seen all day.

Once he had gone, she stood there for a moment with a smile, considering their conversation. Her mind was already awhirl, thinking of possible ways to bring Booth to his knees by the end of the night. Suddenly, she found herself in the unusual position of counting down the hours until her weekend began.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Booth pulled into the Jeffersonian parking garage at ten past ten, and had barely cut the engine before he was out the door. He was running late, but he knew from experience that Bones wouldn't be ready, so he wasn't really too worried. You could set your watch by her on most stuff, but once she got wrapped up in work, time just seemed to lose all meaning.

Besides, he had a good reason for being late – even if she _was _mad, she wouldn't stay that way long. He smiled a little at the thought, remembering their conversation earlier.

_It's time I rid you of this notion that you can predict everything I'm going to do before I do it…_

He'd seen the challenge in her eyes when she'd said it – and a little hurt, too, which was when he'd gotten the idea to make it up to her by making dinner tonight. He vowed to be nicer on other counts, too - maybe play dumb with the two truths thing, or fake surprise when she took the file to her left instead of the one on her right the next time she was working at her desk and he came in – as she was bound to do, after his little spiel earlier in the day.

That wasn't to say that she was completely predictable, at all. Hell, she'd definitely surprised him more than once in the past week. When she'd climbed into his bed and cried on his shoulder, for example, he'd been surprised. And when, later that same night, she'd leaned up and kissed him, her blue eyes wide open and terrified…. Well, you could have knocked him over with a feather then. The way she loved to cuddle, how easily she curled into him in the night, that sigh she made when he breathed in her ear, the gasp when he nipped her neck just a little too hard…

He picked up the pace, thinking of the evening he had planned. He might be able to read Bones like a book, but he figured there were still a couple of chapters he hadn't gotten to yet. And he was planning on enjoying every single page.

Over the years, Booth had started playing this game, where Bones was concerned. Before he went to see her, he'd kind of preview the scene in his head – what he'd say when he got there, the way she'd laugh or roll her eyes or say _I don't know what that means, _looking at him with luminous blue eyes, clueless about what she was doing to him. At this point, he figured he was right about 85% of the time – which was pretty good, all things considered. He liked knowing Bones. He'd worked damned hard to do it, and took pride in the fact that there wasn't another man on the planet who knew her better.

She would never see it that way though, he knew, so he renewed his vow to try harder and seem surprised by whatever she had up her sleeve tonight. Still, he couldn't help falling back into his old routine, picturing the scene that was about to play out. He figured he would cruise into her office, where she would be at her desk, head bowed over a file or some bonesy thing or other. She probably wouldn't even know he was there, at first… He smiled at the thought, feeling the anticipation build.

Oh yeah.

He thought again of what he had waiting for her – dinner, candlelight, the whole nine yards, all set up at her apartment. He was looking forward to spending a night just the two of them, with no reason to get up tomorrow until he went to pick up Parker at noon. And more than just about anything, he was looking forward to the very predictable smile he would get from his gorgeous partner, when she looked up from her desk.

The lab was dark when he got inside, just the security lights and the ones in Bones's office to guide his way. He frowned when he walked past the place where Vincent had died, and grimly reminded himself that whatever else might be going on between them, Bones was still mourning a colleague. Great sex did a lot to take your mind off that kind of pain, but it wasn't a cure-all. He'd need to go easy with her, make sure to get her to talk a little over the weekend. And, most of all, get her the hell out of the lab.

Booth couldn't quite contain a cocky smile when he walked through Bones's office door and she sat behind her desk, just like he'd pictured, not even looking up when he shut the door behind him.

"You're late," she said, before he'd gotten out a word.

And that was where any similarity to the scene he'd imagined and the scene he walked in on, ended.

"Yeah – sorry, Bones. I figured you'd be all tied up with wor – "

She looked up from her paperwork. She was wearing glasses he'd never seen before, her hair up in a tight bun the way she wore it sometimes when they were working. Once he made it past those details, however, Booth suddenly found the physical act of walking just a little beyond him.

Bones was wearing her usual lab coat, the deep blue one that brought out her eyes.

And that, as far as he could tell, was all she was wearing, besides a lacy black bra that peeked out at the top, and a pair of spiky red three-inch heels.

"Lock the door, please," she said. A cocky little smirk of her own was on her lips, now.

Booth did as he was told, then stood there for a good ten seconds before Bones looked at him, one perfect eyebrow arched.

"Aren't you going to come say hello?"

She stood. The lab coat was buttoned closed, her breasts practically spilling out of the top, forty acres of creamy, gorgeous leg peeking out the bottom. When Booth was about halfway to her, she sat on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs demurely, leaning back just a little. Booth had a perfect view of a lacy thong and the promised land from where he was standing, and Bones damned well knew it.

"We should – uh…" He knew there was a reason they shouldn't do this right now, but for the life of him he couldn't think what it was.

"We should what?" she asked, innocent as a kitten. He imagined Angela had to be to blame for at least part of this. God, he loved that woman.

He finally reached Bones, his jeans getting tighter by the minute, his only thought at this point that if he didn't touch her – soon – he would definitely explode.

"Did you expect this?" she asked. Still trying for coy, but he caught a little edge of vulnerability to her tone. He forced himself to look up from the lacy edged cleavage peaking out at him from the lab coat, and met her eye.

"Uh – no, Bones." He licked his lips. Laughed a choked laugh, moving closer to touch her… Something. Everything. Jesus, looking at her now, he didn't even know where to start.

He was moving in for a kiss when she moved back with a teasing smile.

"Not yet," she said. Her eyes were darker than usual, which was how he knew she was almost as turned on as he was in all this.

"Sit," she said.

Booth didn't even think about arguing, which just went to show how far gone he was.

He sat.

"Did you know that the word fuck is actually an acronym," she said. Her voice was low, and when she said the word she lingered over "fuck."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"From Victorian times," she explained. Voice low. Her hand moved to the top button of her lab coat. "Would you like me to take this off?"

He swallowed so hard he thought his ears might pop. "God, yeah."

She undid the top button. "It meant Fornicate Under Command of the King." And then, the second button.

"Okay," he said, half under his breath. "That's nice, Bones."

She was sitting on the desk facing him, legs still crossed. She looked him dead in the eye, and took off the glasses. He thought he might pop a seam in his jeans any second. Then, she reached around – graceful, like she'd done it a thousand times before – and pulled the barrette out of her hair, shaking loose a cascade of wavy auburn hair.

"There are two hundred and six bones in the human body," she said.

He nodded, not really hearing her. "Mm hmm."

Booth licked his lips again. Brennan followed the movement, and smiled. Her eyes looked like she'd been mainlining starlight.

Her hands returned to the buttons on her lab coat. With the top two undone, he could see all of the lacy bra beneath, her breasts full and just begging for his touch. Booth's hand drifted to the front of his jeans. If somebody didn't touch somebody soon, he was gonna lose his mind. Bones followed the movement of his hand with her eyes, and they darkened another shade, but she didn't say anything.

Instead, she released the last button, and slid the lab coat off her shoulders. She sat in front of him in a black lace bra and matching panties, the outfit capped with those three-inch heels and a look on her face that was about as sexy as anything he'd ever seen before.

She slid slowly off the desk, and wound up standing in between his legs, Booth now eye level with her breasts. He reached out, settling his hands at her waist; he couldn't help but smile at her soft inhale at the contact. Before he could make a move, though, she reached down, took both his hands in her own, and set them back in his lap – as she did so, making sure to rub her knuckles against his cock until he almost came up out of his seat.

"Jesus, Bones," he groaned.

She smiled. "No touching," she said primly.

And then, she knelt – that's right, _knelt, _between his legs, looking up at him with her big blue eyes behind a curtain of auburn hair, and very purposefully licked her lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Booth thought again of Angela giving Bones a lesson in all this – the image of the two of them practicing these moves together was almost enough to make him come before Bones had so much as laid a hand on him.

She reached up, ran her hand over the by-now pretty damned unmistakable bulge in his jeans, and undid his belt buckle.

"Bones, we should probably…"

… But then she was very slowly, very carefully, unzipping his jeans. She gestured for him to sit up, and pulled both pants and underwear down to his ankles. Then, she lay a soft kiss on his naked inner thigh. His eyes sank shut.

She kissed her way up his thigh, her teeth scraping against the skin with just enough pressure to drive him slowly insane. And then, she stopped.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" she asked, all innocence again. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Uh – no, Bones." Like he could remember, if his life depended on it, why they needed to get back to the apartment. "Just… y'know…"

"What?" she asked. Still kneeling. Breasts pressed against his leg. Head tilted, eyes wide. She'd still had no direct contact with his cock, and Booth hadn't ached like this since he was in high school.

"Nothing – just…" He groaned again. "God, Bones, you're killing me here."

She looked like she'd just won the lottery at his words. Her hand moved a little higher on his right thigh, while she continued kissing and licking her way up his left.

Her hand got there first – her knuckles gently running along the length of his shaft so that he swore softly, trying to remember to breathe. Once her mouth reached him, though, he found trying to maintain any kind of coherent thought impossible. She nuzzled him for a second, her breath warm on his sac, her tongue moving in long, sure strokes, before she licked her way up to the head of his cock.

"The term blow job comes from Victorian times," she said. "When they used the word blow as a euphemism for ejaculation."

Okay, so the sex talk could use a little work. But he sure as hell wasn't going to complain – especially when her tongue found that sweet spot on the underside of his shaft, pressing in just before she took him in his mouth, taking him so deep that he sank back in his seat, his jaw going slack at both the feel and the sight.

His eyes finally sank shut as she set a rhythm that would have buckled his knees, had he been standing. He lay a hand on her head gently, lacing his fingers in her hair, and she did something with her hand at the base of his shaft while she kept moving, and whatever the hell it was she was doing, he was either gonna black out or come like a rocket in about two seconds.

"Bones," he whispered, and it came out sounding a little desperate. He tried to pull her up, give her a signal as he felt his sac tighten. "I'm gonna…"

She looked up at him without breaking her rhythm, just a hint of a smile on her lips when she took him deep one more time, telling him without a word exactly what she wanted from him.

He let go.

Afterward, sitting there with his head back and his body totally boneless, his eyes shut and his breath coming hard, Bones buttoned her lab coat back up without putting anything else on. Booth pulled his pants up, since he felt a little silly sitting there with his jeans around his ankles and his softening, still slick cock just kind of out there for the world to see. Then, he pulled Bones onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

"So…" she said.

He looked at her blankly. "So… Holy shit, Bones." He shook his head. "That was amazing. Seriously. I mean…" Another shake of the head, still feeling a little muddled.

"Well, yes, I know _that – _I'm well-versed in male anatomy, Booth, and Angela gave me some ideas that I believe I put to excellent use here. But that's not what I was referring to."

He scratched his chin, trying to get his brain back in gear. "Okay… Uh – what _are_ you referring to, then?"

"Two truths and a lie," she said, like he was the biggest idiot this side of the Mason Dixon line. "I told you three things – but only two of them were true."

He racked his brain, but for the life of him he couldn't remember anything beyond Bones in a lab coat, glasses, and three inch red high heels. He did, however, know Bones. Which meant… She was looking at him, her hair a little messy the way he loved it, anticipation clear in her eyes. Waiting.

"The third one," he said.

Her eyes widened, and he could tell she was trying like hell not to smile. "Are you certain that's the one you'd like to choose?"

He nodded.

The grin on her face was big enough to make his heart melt right along with the rest of him.

"It was the first one," she said, her voice a little higher, the words coming faster now. "I tricked you – because you said before that I always choose the second one, but _then _you said that I would most likely choose the third one if I didn't choose the second." The grin got just a little wider if it was even possible, her eyebrows climbing higher.

"So you chose the first one," he said, doing his damnedest not to laugh. "That was tricky, Bones. Nice one."

"Thank you. While it's true that there are urban legends regarding the word fuck originating as an acronym after the plague, it actually has Germanic origins. I honestly thought you would catch on, but I suppose given the circumstances…"

He did laugh at that. "The circumstances, Bones? You stripped to nothing in front of me and gave me the best blowjob of my life. I'm not trying to say you haven't come a long way with this whole Two Truths and a Lie thing, but I _was _a little distracted."

"That was part of the plan," she confided in him, her eyes still shining. "I learned that from you. Sometimes, the most effective way to manipulate the results in your favor is to use some fire and mirrors."

"Smoke and mirrors, Bones," still laughing a little.

He kissed her cheek, gently pushing her off his lap. And it was then – right after the fire comment, but before Bones had a chance to put much of anything in the way of a decent outfit back on – that he remembered why they needed to get back to the apartment.

Shit.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his obvious enjoyment during their encounter in Brennan's office, Booth seemed distracted on the way back to her apartment. He was also driving more quickly than was strictly necessary, casting an anxious glance in her direction every few minutes.

"Booth, my apartment will still be there in ten minutes – could you please slow down?"

"I'm just in a hurry to get you home, Bones – give a guy a break." Though the words were right, his teasing seemed forced, and she was left with the distinct impression that there was something he wasn't telling her. And not necessarily something good.

"You could have at least allowed me to get dressed before we left – I'm quite certain the janitorial staff suspected something when I walked out wearing your jacket."

"It'll give 'em something to talk about – not to mention something to remember. I'll bet you dollars to donuts your office's never been cleaner come Monday morning."

Booth anxiously scanned the horizon as they neared her apartment, though for what she had no idea. When Angela had concocted the whole plan this afternoon to prove to Booth that Brennan could be spontaneous, the artist had never made any mention that things might end up this way: with Booth anxious and strangely distant, barely touching her as she dressed in the passenger's seat of his truck and he broke the speed limit of every sign they passed.

When her apartment was in sight, he seemed to relax slightly. She was so thrown by his initial reaction, however, that she barely noted the change. This entire situation – the burgeoning relationship, the shift in she and Booth's friendship, her sudden feeling that she was perpetually on uneven terrain, left her feeling unpleasantly unsettled.

Booth's behavior was doing little to change that.

He pulled into her parking space. Brennan suddenly regretted her decision to leave her car at the Jeffersonian, further cementing her reliance on the man beside her this evening.

She turned to look at him, debating the wisdom of simply saying goodnight here and now, regardless of their plans. Before she could say a word, however, she found that Booth was already out the door and halfway across the parking garage. Her anxiety began to morph into frustration – Angela had clearly given her erroneous advice. And now, despite having spent two _hours _in her office paying careful attention to her best friend's tutelage, noting intonation, gestures, and even phrasing, _and _despite having clearly not only aroused Booth and then fellated him to a powerful climax…

_Still, _it seemed she had done something wrong.

They were in the foyer of her building, Booth still several steps ahead of her, barely paying any attention at all, when she stopped in her tracks. She had won the lying game – was _that _the problem? That she had bested him at something in which he clearly took pride? It didn't seem like Booth, but she could think of no other explanation for his sudden distance.

"Booth!"

She'd said his name more loudly than she had intended, the result being that the few others loitering nearby turned at the same time that her partner did.

"C'mon, Bones – no time to waste."

She frowned, and bridged the distance between them in a few haughty strides.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," she said, once she was close to him again. They were standing at the elevator, waiting for the doors to open.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed. It was difficult to ignore how sharp her disappointment when he agreed with her. The bastard didn't even shift his gaze from the elevator doors.

"Maybe we should take the stairs instead," he said, clearly thinking that the delay was what she had been speaking of. She was amazed to realize that he honestly had no idea she was upset.

She stared at him. Frustration boiled over to anger. The elevator doors opened; Booth moved to step inside, but Brennan stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"That's not what I meant, Booth. I _meant, _perhaps you shouldn't come up."

He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"Are you kiddin', Bones? We've got a date. I've got…" he grabbed the elevator door just before it closed, stepped inside, and pulled her with him – not particularly gently, either.

She jerked her arm from his grasp the moment they were securely inside.

"You barely spoke to me at all the entire ride home. Manhandled me out of the lab as though we were on some case, despite the fact that I was barely dressed, and now you seem to be under some assumption that – " She felt unwelcome tears sting the corners of her eyes, and blinked them back furiously.

"Bones – hey," He took a step toward her, running his hands up and down her arms, his eyes dark with what appeared to be regret. "I'm sorry, Bones – that's not what this was about, I swear. I wasn't even thinking… Crap." He brushed the hair from her forehead. "I'm a horse's ass, Bones."

She wished that she could hide the depth of her uncertainty. "So you aren't upset that I won the lying game?"

He barked a laugh. "No – Jeez, Bones. You know me better than that."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she'd thought she did, but she refrained. "And the other… What happened in the office? That wasn't… too much?"

"The thing in your office was just about the hottest thing anyone's ever done for me, Bones," he said. His voice lowered to a more intimate tone as he stroked her cheek.

"Then why have you been behaving so strangely since my office?"

"You'll understand in a minute, okay? Just trust me here."

The elevator opened. Booth put his arm around her waist, clearly making an effort to move with less urgency now. As her door came into view, however, he once again increased his pace, pulling her along with him. When they reached her door, he sniffed the air experimentally. Brennan did the same. Her forehead creased at the acrid smell in the air.

"Booth, why does my apartment smell like smoke?"

He practically elbowed her out of the way, hurriedly unlocking the door. The moment she took in the scene awaiting them, however, Brennan all but forgot her earlier irritation.

Though there was a faint scent of smoke that lingered in the air, the window was open and the oven fan was going. The table was set, a bouquet of daffodils at the center and candles gently flickering on either side.

"This is why you were so anxious to get home?" she asked.

Booth scratched his head and turned in a circle, looking baffled. He went into the kitchen and opened the oven. Brennan followed after him, peering in over his shoulder. The oven was on low, a fine-looking lasagna waiting for them with garlic bread beside it.

"Everything looks very nice, Booth."

He straightened, still looking confused.

"The lasagna smells quite good – it doesn't even look burned."

He nodded, his forehead still furrowed. "Yeah, I know. I've gotta tell you, Bones, it's a little weird."

"Because of the smoke?"

He scratched his head again. "Well, yeah – that." He hesitated. "And because I made baked ziti for dinner."

Before she could react to his statement, there was a soft knock on the door. Brennan left Booth to continue puzzling things out while she answered.

Her elderly next door neighbor stood at her threshold with a plate of brownies in hand.

"I brought these for you," the woman said before Brennan had uttered a word, looking interestedly inside.

"Your smoke alarm went off some time ago," the woman continued. "I hope you don't mind terribly, but I let myself in to turn it off."

Booth returned to Brennan's side. "That was you?"

"Yes – it was clear you'd planned something special." She looked over her glasses at Booth, clearly appraising him. "I'm right?"

He nodded, flushing slightly. "Yes, ma'am."

"This is Edna Pratchett, Booth – she's my next door neighbor. She typically waters my plants and gets my mail when I'm traveling."

"So the lasagna in there…?" he prompted.

"I always have a spare in the freezer," she assured him. "I'm afraid the ziti didn't weather the storm so well. You really hadn't ought to leave the oven on if you're leaving the apartment," she scolded him gently.

"I know." His flush deepened. "I thought I'd only be a few minutes – I'm really sorry you had to go to all this trouble."

Edna dismissed his apology with a shake of her head. "No harm done now, was there? I think you two should be all set – that wine you got should still go well with the lasagna. Very nice."

"You could stay – if you like," Brennan said impulsively, ignoring the look on Booth's face. At her glare, he nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah, of course. There's plenty of food."

"Oh, pfft – If I eat this late, I'll be up all night. And besides, this isn't a meal for three. I don't care how much food there is. You two have a nice time." She winked at Booth. "And don't forget to turn the oven off next time, hmm?"

"No, ma'am. Thanks again – you saved my tail."

"I'm sure Temperance will do the same for me, the next time I have a handsome gentleman trying to make me dinner."

Once Mrs. Pratchett was gone, Brennan turned to look at Booth, who had returned to the oven and was once more contemplating the lasagna.

"That's why you needed to get back to my apartment – because you were concerned that you had set it on fire."

He straightened, attempting to work his best charm smile on her. For some reason, she did not find herself particularly charmed.

"Thank God for Edna Pratchett, that's all I can say" When she offered no response, he put his arms around her waist. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Bones – you've gotta know that's the last thing I wanted to do. I just got a little distracted is all."

"It makes much more sense now that I understand what was happening," she admitted, though she still felt off.

Booth gazed knowingly into her eyes, as if he could see exactly what she was thinking – which only served to annoy her more.

"So… You understand. But that doesn't actually mean you forgive me, huh?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Booth – it was a simple miscommunication." She disentangled herself from his arms, and went to remove the lasagna from the oven.

"Then I guess you're not freaked out that you put yourself out there and I acted like a total jerk... 'Cause if it were me, I'd probably be a little freaked out."

"You were merely concerned that you had set my apartment on fire – I told you, I understand now. Given the circumstances, I'm simply grateful that Mrs. Pratchett was available to intervene."

She had her back to him, feeling a growing sense of annoyance that he wouldn't simply let the matter go. As she went to pull the lasagna pan from the oven, she was so consumed with the conversation that she foolishly neglected to use a potholder. She already had the dish halfway out of the oven before the pain registered, and she dropped the entire, heavy glass dish to the kitchen floor with a pained cry.

The dish shattered at her feet. "Dammit!" She got to her knees, attempting to pick up the pieces, a surge of rage and anxiety welling up and mixing with the pain in her burned hands.

"Bones – hey, come on, get up."

"Leave me alone, Booth. Look at this mess."

She realized that she was crying – stupidly, stupidly crying, and her hand was extremely painful, and now the lasagna was all over the kitchen floor, shards of glass mixed in with it.

Booth knelt to eye level beside her and stilled her frantic movement with a gentling hand.

"Hey – Temperance," he said softly. She looked up, fighting to hold back any further tears.

"We'll clean it up in a minute, okay? Come on."

He straightened, gently pulling her to her feet, and led her to the bathroom. While she sat cradling her hand awkwardly at the door, he turned on the water in the sink and tested it before indicating that she should come over. She reluctantly obeyed.

"Let me see."

"I can take care of it."

"I know you can take care of it, Bones – but how about you humor me, okay?"

She held out her left hand, noting that it was already bright red, a couple of ugly blisters forming. Booth studied the palm before carefully putting it beneath the cool water.

"It doesn't look too bad," he said. "It must hurt like hell, though. You think you'll make it?"

She wiped her tears without meeting his eye, feeling embarrassed and maudlin. "I'm sure I will. I have some cream in the medicine cabinet – I'll just put that on, and I'll be fine."

He went to the cabinet without waiting for her, leaving Brennan to stand at the sink alone. She thought of the mess in the kitchen, the dinner she'd destroyed – though, to be fair, Booth had destroyed it first – and the countless ways she seemed to be approaching this relationship all wrong.

Booth returned to her side a moment later, put the cover down on the toilet, and motioned for her to sit. She did so as he knelt beside her and gently dried her burned hand.

"We'll get better at this, Bones," he said. There was clear concern in his eyes, as though he thought she might not believe him.

She laughed, though the sound came out somewhat despairing. "I certainly hope so."

The cream was infinitely soothing as Booth spread it across her hand, his touch light and sure. Then, he leaned in and kissed the center of her palm, his gaze centered on her own.

"You've had a hell of a week, Bones. That's not lost on me, you know."

She felt tears starting again, and found all she could do was nod mutely.

Booth pulled her into his arms. For the second time that week, she found herself weeping into his shoulder.

At some point, they made their way into the living room, settling down on the sofa together with Booth's arm around her. They sat there for a few minutes in a quiet embrace, Brennan's head resting on his chest as Booth twined his fingers in her hair and whispered comforting things in her ear. The stillness was broken unexpectedly after a few minutes, with a rumble in Booth's stomach.

She laughed aloud at the sound. "You must be starving."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Yeah – I've gotta admit, I'm a little hungry."

Her refrigerator was barren, she knew – the week had allowed little time for errands like grocery shopping.

"Take-out?" Booth asked, reading her mind.

"Delivery."

He reached for his cell phone with one hand, his other arm still around her shoulders, and dialed the number to Wong Fu's from memory. She gave him her order and then, after he hung up, he brushed the hair from her eyes with a sympathetic smile.

"You feel better?"

She tilted her head as she considered the question. "My hand still hurts."

He placed another kiss on her now-bandaged palm.

"And there's a big mess in my kitchen."

"I've got it covered, Bones – don't worry about that."

"And my apartment smells like smoke."

"It'll air out."

She nodded. All of his solutions did, indeed, seem valid. A wave of fatigue washed over her.

"I'm very tired," she admitted.

For the first time, Booth looked uncertain. "Do you want me to go? 'Cause I will – I mean, after we eat and I clean up your kitchen, of course."

An odd sense of alarm hit at his suggestion, and an even greater one at how much she didn't want him to go.

"Do you _want _to leave?"

"Hell, no," he said without hesitation. "But I just – if you need space or whatever, Bones, I can give you that."

She shook her head after a moment of thought. "I don't believe I need space tonight."

"Good," he said, with a sigh of relief. "I don't think you need space, either."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "No?" she asked, with just a trace of insinuation in her tone. "What do _you _think I need?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well…" He moved in closer, his lips brushing her ear. "We could maybe start with a little something… here."

She gasped at the pressure of his teeth on her earlobe.

"That may have some merit," she breathed.

"And then, maybe move a little lower…" His voice vibrated against the sensitive flesh at her neck; when he reached her clavicle, she couldn't stifle a moan.

"This seems like a very good way to end the evening."

Before he could get very much farther, the front buzzer sounded. Booth stood quickly, readjusting his jeans for obvious reasons, and ordered her to stay put. She didn't even consider arguing with him. They ate in companionable silence, with the exception of a brief conversation Booth initiated on the subject of dating.

He had a mouthful of mu shu pork, so she didn't entirely understand him the first time he said the words. She waited, eyebrows raised in a silent question, for him to repeat himself.

He wiped his mouth, looking slightly embarrassed. "I said, this week hasn't given me much chance to be all that impressive… Y'know, date-wise. We should go out, Bones."

She lowered her veggie fried rice halfway to her mouth. It had proven too awkward trying to use chopsticks with her bandaged hand, but even the fork she had chosen instead was difficult to maneuver.

"But not right now, correct? Because…" She looked down at her outfit – she had changed into her pajamas a short time ago, her hair in a ponytail, slipper-clad feet curled beneath her. She definitely was not in the mood to go anywhere.

"Nah, not tonight. I figure this week is kind of a lost cause – especially since I've got Parker tomorrow. But another night."

They were both seated on the sofa, positioned facing one another, the romantic table setting abandoned as just another aspect of the evening that hadn't quite gone as planned.

"I plan on taking you out a lot, Bones," he continued. "Movies, picnics, ballgames." He looked at her with an almost shy smile, and she had the odd feeling that he had imagined this before. Planned it, even, perhaps.

"We should go to the ballet," she said. "The Moscow Ballet is in DC next week – I already have tickets. They're quite extraordinary."

He grimaced.

"You don't like the ballet?"

"Nah – sure I do. I mean… I guess I do. It just seems like kind of a stuffy way to spend a night."

She thought of the last time she had been to the ballet: the feeling of anticipation she felt when the lights dimmed, the magic of being surrounded by so many strangers dressed so elegantly, the captivating tale that unfurled on stage. That had been two years ago, she realized – and even then, she had been thinking how pleasant it would be to share a night like that with Booth. Of course, she hadn't been thinking of the two of them in the same context then, but that didn't seem to matter.

"You look very nice in formal wear. And…" she paused, feeling more uncertain now. "I enjoy getting dressed up, at times. I believe you would have more fun than you think."

He popped a piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, considering the proposition.

"You really want me to go with you?" He looked embarrassed for a moment. "I mean… I know I look good in a tux and everything, but I'm kind of low-rent compared to other guys you could go out with instead. I don't know anything about ballet."

"What do you need to know? You listen to the music and watch them dance. Besides which," she looked at him pointedly, the rest of his statement just registering. "I can't think of anyone I know who is more chivalrous or gentile than you are, despite how 'low-brow' you always insist you are. I believe many of the women who frequent those types of occasions would be very envious of me."

Though he blustered and blushed and then promptly stood and announced he was going in to clean the kitchen, Brennan could tell he was pleased by her statement. Which pleased her. In the past, she knew she had said some harsh things to Booth about his level of intelligence, perhaps made him doubt himself when it was the last thing she'd intended. She hoped she could make that up to him now.

Though she offered to help with clean-up, Booth dismissed the thought with a wave. Before long, he was humming happily in the other room, and Brennan was curled up on the sofa with a scientific digest and a sense of contentment she wouldn't have thought possible considering the way she'd felt when they first entered her apartment a few hours before. She drifted off before long, to the sound of water running and dishes clattering gently.

"Hey… Bones. Sorry, babe, but you should take these."

She woke, disoriented, to Booth crouching beside the couch with a glass of water and two aspirin. She sat up, blinking sleepily.

"How long have I been…?"

"Not long – sorry. But you should take some aspirin, or your hand's gonna hurt like hell tomorrow. And then let's get you to bed, huh?"

Most of the lights in the apartment were now off, the food cleared from the coffee table and a blanket over her. Clearly, she'd slept for a longer period of time - and more soundly - than she had thought. She took the aspirin, washed them down with a gulp of water, and then stood when Booth pulled gently on her arm. The wall clock told her it was nearly one a.m. Looking at Booth, she realized that he'd had just as long a week as she had – and yet here he was, still looking after her.

She leaned into him when he put his arm around her shoulders. "Thank you, Booth."

"For which thing? Almost burning your apartment down, acting like a first-class jerk, or upsetting you so much that you burned your hand and wrecked Mrs. Pratchett's lasagna?"

He was joking, she knew, but something about it still sat wrong with her. They were halfway to the bedroom when she turned to him seriously, looking him in the eye.

"You shouldn't do that," she said.

He looked uncertain – as though he was worried he'd done something wrong again. "Shouldn't do what, Bones?"

"You shouldn't accept responsibility for everything that goes wrong so readily. Sometimes things go wrong and they have nothing to do with you. You had no way of knowing it would take longer than a few minutes to pick me up and return to the apartment this evening; you weren't behaving like a jerk - you were merely focused on other things, which was understandable considering that you knew the oven was on for more than an acceptable period of time; and _I_ was the one who picked up the lasagna without a potholder and dropped the entire dish on the kitchen floor. If you're so intent on casting blame, at least admit that I'm partially responsible for a few of the things that went wrong tonight."

She hadn't had any intention of making such a lengthy speech, and flushed when she realized that Booth was looking at her with an amused smile.

"I'm being serious, Booth."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I know, Bones. You're just cute when you're serious, that's all." His lips moved to her neck, warming her body even more than his embrace, and then he kissed his way along her mandible before finally finding his way to her mouth. When he pulled back to look at her, there seemed to be a level of seriousness that hadn't been there before.

"Two truths and a lie, Bones. You ready?"

She nodded, feeling a growing sense of languorous anticipation. "Yes."

"One," he said softly. She was still in his arms, though far enough apart that she could see the intensity in his eyes, his hand settling lightly on her cheek. He took a long, steadying breath before he spoke, the smile never quite leaving his lips. "I've been in love with you from the day you laid out that smarmy bastard all those years ago and almost cost me my job, and I've been waiting all that time to be able to say that out loud."

She felt tears sting her eyes at his admission and the quiet intensity of his gaze. Before she could respond, a lighter smile touched his lips, and he continued with their game.

"Two." He kissed her nose at the word, then continued. "You rocked my world in your office earlier – seriously, Bones. And I know it was a risk you wouldn't usually take, and I know maybe Angela helped out with it a little, but I just wanna make sure you know that I appreciate you putting yourself out there like that." A kind of hunger touched his dark eyes, making him seem suddenly more dangerous than he had a moment before. "And before this night's out, I'm gonna thank you in a way that'll make your toes curl." He winked at her. "I'm speaking figuratively there, Bones."

She moved in to kiss him, suddenly tiring of the game, a slow ache starting at her center. Before she reached him, however, he leaned backward.

"Whoa there, Bones. _Three,_" he said pointedly. He thought for a moment. "There's a parade of pink elephants walking up your street right now."

She rolled her eyes. "You could make this somewhat more difficult, you know."

"I don't know what you mean. Two truths and a lie… I love you, you rocked my world and in about forty-five seconds I'm gonna rock yours, and a bunch of pink pachyderms in matching tutus are parading just outside your front door. Which is it gona be?"

This time, Brennan didn't even bother to answer. It seemed to her that – regardless of how effectively she could deceive Booth or he could deceive her – this time out, she had already won.

The End

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><p><em>And... There we go. Hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to tune in tomorrow for new chaps of Apprentice on the Island. Thanks for reading! <em>


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